video: Dems’ Deadly Delusions: Cheering Assassinations, Murder Fantasies & Snubbing Trump’s Gaza Peace Miracle

Oh, welcome to the Democrat Party’s version of “moderation”—you know, the one where the middle ground isn’t a sensible compromise, it’s just the spot where you pause to reload before charging full-tilt into the blood-soaked fever swamp.

Picture this: Tens of thousands of blue-team warriors high-fiving over Charlie Kirk getting brutally murdered in front of his kids,
“Yas queen, serve that violence!” they tweet, while sipping their oat milk lattes.

And you thought cancel culture was just about bad tweets? Nah, it’s evolved—now it’s “cancel with a chainsaw.”

Enter stage left: Jay friggin’ Jones, the Virginia Dem darling who’s basically auditioning for a villain arc in a Michael Bay movie.

This guy’s not content with your garden-variety mudslinging; oh no, he dreams up elaborate snuff films starring his political rival and the rival’s innocent spawn, then floors it at 116 mph like he’s late for his own parole hearing. Cops pull him over, and what does he get? A plea deal sweeter than a Kardashian divorce settlement—no jail time, just a slap-on-the-wrist “community service” gig where half of it doubles as unpaid campaign staffing, for his own campaign.
Genius! Why volunteer at a soup kitchen when you can polish your own halo while dodging real consequences? And get this: he straight-up muses that more cops croaking might finally teach ’em to “shoot less people.” Bold strategy, Jay—because nothing says “top cop material” like rooting for the thin blue line to turn into a dotted one.

Yet here we are, polls showing this human wrecking ball in a dead heat with his opponent for attorney general, like Virginia’s voters are playing electoral Russian roulette with a fully loaded chamber.
How many Democrat endorsements got yanked?? Zero. Zilch. Nada. None.

It’s like the party’s collective motto is “If it bleeds, we lead… the ballot.” My lefty pals? They shrug it off: “Eh, one guy’s a moron, doesn’t represent us.” Buddy, when that “one guy” dreaming of the death of the cops reporting to him, and his political opponent and his children, doesn’t change more than 5 blue voters away from him; that’s not a fringe outlier—that’s your family reunion photo, warts, warrants, and all.
Half the party’s so numb to the stench of normalized political violence, they’d vote for a guy who makes Satan look like Mother Teresa.

And here is a bombshell poll: according to a UGov poll over 50% of Democrats think offing Donald Trump is justified,.
Almost as many for Elon Musk, because why stop at one billionaire when you can cosplay as the French Revolution’s discount bin? “Vive la guillotine!” they whisper, while posting avocado toast recipes.
Fifty percent! That’s not a “silent majority”—that’s a screaming half of the tent pitching up camp in Crazytown, USA, with pitchforks and pitch decks for the sequel.

Oh, and let’s tip our hats to The Orange Menace himself, who somehow brokers a peace deal between Hamas—the Nobel Peace Prize winners in hostage-taking—and Israel that no one saw coming.
You’d think the Dems would be popping champagne: “Hooray, fewer rockets, more hummus!” Nope. Crickets. Not a peep of credit.
They’d rather clutch their pearls over the “genocide” narrative, conveniently forgetting Hamas’s October 7th ceasefire cosplay where they turned a music festival into a slaughterhouse speedrun (1,200+ Israelis, zero chill).
Peace? Pfft. That doesn’t fit the script. Better to keep the outrage machine humming—it’s got better mileage than a Tesla on autopilot.

From Antifa’s molotov cocktail happy hours to the parade of “mostly peaceful” ICE agent ambushes, the party’s A-listers are out here treating political violence like it’s the new kale smoothie: trendy, essential, and just a little bit toxic if you overdo it.

The middle? Honey, that vanished faster than Biden’s golf handicap. It’s been replaced by a chasm so wide, you need a drone strike to cross it. The left’s not polarized anymore—it’s magnetized, every last needle pointing straight to “extremistan.” America, we’re not divided; we’re just watching one side sprint toward the edge while yelling “Wheee!” Buckle up, folks—it’s gonna be a hell of a fall into the abyss.